Of Butterflies and Pirate Hats
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Pirate England x Colonial America NO SHOTA! KEEP WALKING PEDOBEAR. NOTHING FOR YOU HERE! England visits America and America wants England's hat. First published on DA Crap summary is crap


America pursued the butterfly through the tall stalks of high sun ripened wheat that moved in the breeze like an earthbound ocean of rippling gold. The bug had alighted soft as down on one of the last few flowers of summer. It was bright blue in color patterned with delicate white spotting, nothing special as far as butterflies went. America wanted it though but just to hold it in his hands to study the fragile insect. He was entranced by the way it floated upon the air on wings he could practically see through.

He lost all interest though about it in an instant, his head shooting up to look over the growth of grain. A nation had just touched down on his shores. America could feel it all the way down to his marrow. That only meant one thing.

England was back.

America ran at top speeds as fast as his little legs and bare feet could carry him. He wasn't hindered by natural obstacles the land practically bending to his will to shorten the distance between himself and the docks. America had only one goal in mind and that was to greet England before he made it to the large house the English nation had built for them on the outskirt of the former settlement turned prosperous port town.

One reason was for this personal mission in life for him was because America genuinely love and adored England and wanted to see him after their long separation. The other though was so that he could see England before he had a chance to change out of his clothing. His keeper disembarking from his vessel was a totally different being than from that of the England who made him tea and scones at home and read him bedtime stories.

As America peaked a hill that overlooked the port town, he could already spot England's ship the Bloody Rose in the harbor, the sun glinting off of her glossy dark sides. She was a beautiful vessel, made entirely of polished black wood with a weeping angel as its figure head, its sorrowful visage held in its praying hands with it carved wings sweeping back to make up part of the railing. Her red sails billowed in the light breeze, the flags of the fallen and of the kingdom fluttering along with it. England was a different person all together leaving that ship. He walked with a jaunty swagger with a dangerous smirk on his face and a ready hand on his sword's hilt. People reacted to him differently to him as well. The colonist were always respectful to the nation, but when he sailed in on bloody colors, they were marked with noted fear as well. It both bothered and intrigued America. The child nation increased his already rapid pace, nearly tumbling head over heels down the hill in his excitement. If America caught him in time, he would get to see England still dressed for sea.

As a pirate, England wore a long rich crimson damask waistcoat accented with heavy gold buttons and black trim over a white silk shirt and tight black vest with a cravat round his slender neck. Worn black bucket topped boots came up almost to his knees, covering a pair of faded navy blue cotton knee breeches that would be stiff and stained with salt. An emerald green satin sash with beaded fringe wrapped around his lower hips and waist, the decoration clicking lightly as he walked. A pair of pistols, heavy with scrollwork on the handles, were tucked into it. A scarred well balanced cutlass hung from a wide leather braided belt and scabbard. England glittered from the many gold bejeweled rings that were on his long graceful fingers while heavy gold chains and pendants hung from his neck and single gold loop was in his right ear. The outfit was finished with a magnificent hat….a tricorn affair. It was black and weathered from use and time, stained white in some places with sea salt and sweat. Feathers of every shade imaginable flowed out of back corners of it like an exotic waterfall of plumage, further accented by blooms of never dying scarlet roses and careless strands of pearls. Strange gold coins and bright glittering jewels were sewn into chosen places along the brim making it more of a crown of sorts really for the pirate king.

Needless to say, it was one hell of a hat.

America wanted it like he had wanted the butterfly in a way, to hold it in his hands and study it at his leisure to discover its secrets, but like all the other apparel and weapons, it would be safely locked up and put away until it was time for England to leave again. Despite this disappointment, America perked up at the thought of what else came with England's arrival.

There would be bedtime stories, some new, some from his keeper's past, but great sweeping narratives all the same made real alone by England's voice and his skill at the craft . His keeper always had the best tales to tell when he came back, full of action and adventure, of fire and storm, of mermaids and monsters.

And….there would be presents. England would always give him a small gift as well usually some random pretty jewel, or a large heavy gold coin he called a doubloon or even a fine gold chain. Sometimes he would bring back pressed flowers, their rich colors preserved between journals and maps, the flora's exotic perfume still clinging doggedly to its corpse. America always hid these things very carefully. They were his treasures, but not for what they were. Just like he hid England's stories in his head to keep them safe, America secreted away anything that England gave him, for no one else's eyes save his own and preserved with the utmost care.

America made it into town, dodging people and horses the best he could. While he had pull over the land and its native animals, the people here were still very much England's, though that was slowly changing bit by bit. Not enough to help him at the moment as the agile American dodged a stubborn pig and its irritated owner blocking his path, but soon enough. America was excited about it. Humans' thoughts and words were powerful and if he got enough of them, he would get to grow up out of his white dressing gown. Maybe even get to wear pants. Now there was an exciting thought.

America paused for a moment to catch his breathe as he entered the docks, the port busy with fishermen hocking their catches on loud voices, merchants haggling in their secret language of numbers and shorthand, and other ships arriving and leaving for England. The Bloody Rose loomed off to the side of all this hustle and bustle as a dark shade contained at its own private dock. America did not see England upon it though. Of course it didn't help matters he could not really see past everyone's knees, so America resorted to climbing some convenient boxes to aid in his search, ignoring the indignant complaints of the crates' owner.

He ended up promptly falling off of them to pop back up unharmed having found England no more than a few feet away from him giving some parting orders to his first mate. The pirate king soon enough found a small nation hurtling itself at him to hug the older nation around his knees, nearly toppling them both. Centuries of seamanship saved England from falling on his ass, but try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to care about it. There was nothing in this world like being greeted by America, the look of complete joy at his very presence on his cherubic face was worth any kind of minor embarrassment.

"Ye gods, ease up lad.", England gently reprimanded as he blushed at the adoration being heaped upon him, patting the golden head trying to bury itself into his kneecaps.

"England, I missed you!", America told England's shins enthusiastically, drawing back to renew his cheerful assault. Chuckling, the older nation scooped up his charge to save himself and to gain some mobility as well. America squealed in delight as he latched himself around England's neck to tuck himself under his keeper's chin, threatening to cut of the older nation's air supply next. England noted how cold the child's skin was upon this contact, his free hand going to the American's feet, ignoring how dirty they were, to find them bare and frigid as well. England frowned at this, making a mental note to speak with the humans he had left America's care in. He was definitely not pleased and they were going to find out firsthand the consequences of his displeasure. Until then, England gently broke America's hold on his person to tuck the child into his coat for now to ward off the cold.

"Have you been good?", England asked softly, walking off of the dock toward his waiting carriage. People parted like the Red Sea for him which was convenient. He could focus solely on America, who looked quite content sheltered in the folds of crimson damask and surrounded by England's body heat. America just nodded in answer with eyes closed, looking sleepy. England smiled down at him, pressing a kiss to his crown of sandy blonde hair. He half wished that his colony could be this manageable and adorable more of the time, but his wild streak was part of his charm England supposed. The pirate king settled himself carefully into the carriage, lest he disturb the sleeping babe, and signaled the driver to begin the journey home.

America seriously considered being lulled to sleep surrounded by the comfort that was solely England….until the end of a stray feather tickled the little one's nose, making his eyes snap open. America shook himself awake resolutely. He had a mission! He had to get that hat!

Wiggling out from the recesses of the coat, America moved to England's lap to look up at his keeper. He was not pleased to see that England was wearing an eye patch.

"What happened?!", America demanded, his small hands going to his own face and then to England's in concern.

"The Spanish.", England shrugged, trying to make light of the lost orb. It was not the first time he had lost an eye and he doubted it would be the last. America was still very young though and probably never had that severe amount of damage occur to his being yet. "Cheer up lad. It will be back soon enough.", England tried not to grimace as he said that. Re-growing eyes was always a rather itchy affair.

"Were you fighting again?", America sighed far too heavily for one who appeared so young.

"Pirate.", England reminded flippantly, "Anyway, that Spanish bastard looked far worse by the time I was done with him."

"That's not good!", America scolded, standing up do that his hands were on his little hips, the very picture of stern lecture. England bit back a smile. His colony looked so serious, the severe effect and morale high ground ruined entirely by his filthy dressing gown and dirty bare feet.

"Oh, well neither is you dressed rags and a fair amount of a dirt. Have you cleaned yourself once since I saw you last?", England raised a bushy eyebrow at the little nation. America took the silent defense of suddenly finding the buttons of England's coat to be simply too fascinating for him to answer the question.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then.", England sighed. America was still a babe of the woods, the land's wayward son. The humans couldn't really be to blame then if they couldn't find America to take proper care of him. No one, not even their own kind, could find a nation that didn't feel like being found on their own land, and so much of the New World was still unexplored.

England wondered when was the last time American had actually eaten any real food and not the things he happened to find, or the last time he had actually slept in a real bed instead of under a bush or in a pile of leaves. Admittedly, England had done the same when he was young, but he had been on his one. America had him for a big brother and the older nation wanted a better life for his adopted little brother.

"You don't have to live out in the woods anymore, America. You have a home now.", England said quietly as he stroked sunshine blonde hair gently out of the little one's face. America stuck to his button defense, shrugging.

"It's not home when you are not there. It's just a big empty house and I get scared.", America told England's coat in the calm tone of bleak truth that only small children can manage. England's breathe caught in his throat as American continued to fiddle with his clothing.

The older nation had been through wars, had fought hand to hand in losing battles, had been tortured, beaten, and burned, but it was those small words that made his heart truly ache. Physical pain he could handle with a nod and a shrug, but this small wound on his being made his chest bleed while his head swelled with an all too warm feeling. To be wanted so much, longed for and needed by another made England feel dizzy with emotion. He swallowed it back the best he could as the older nation gently cupped his charge's chubby cheeks to make summer blue meet spring green.

"Poppet…you know I have to leave, but never want to go.", England told his little one in sincere tones he somehow managed not to waver. What could you ever really say to someone who looks at you as if you were the one who hung the moon and stars in the sky?

"I know…..", America mumbled, his lips dipping into a small frown as his eyes went back to the eye patch.

"Come now, no more sad faces while I am here, my sweet. Tonight, we shall dine as kings. I'll make you something special to celebrate my return.", England said quickly. Bollacks, he had forgotten about the damn thing. His colony perked up immediately at the mention of food, a special pull on his heartstrings that it was for his food in particular. "Suck on that frog!", England mentally cheered.

As they came to a halt in their journey and exited the carriage, England viewed his house with an over critical eye to make sure it was in good repair with the firewood stocked, and the gardens tended. If those idiots couldn't look after America properly, the very least they could do was make sure that his home was in good order. England felt eyes upon him, looking down to see America staring up at him quite intently.

"What is it?", England asked curiously, "Don't worry yourself about the eye. It will grow back on its own probably in the next day or two." Which was true. He could already feel the orb's portal itching. It was going to be a very unpleasant evening. All things considering, England found himself preferring decapitation. It was faster and he just woke up a couple hours later with a headache and mild crick in his neck. It was strangely less inconvenient.

"N-no…..um…..", America stammered, his hands fisting in his dressing gown.

"Out with it lad.", England said sternly. His colony was not a shy child. If something was bothering the little nation that greatly to the point of hesitation, he needed to get to the bottom of it right away.

"Can I have your hat?!", America blurted out to be met with a confused stare.

"My hat?", England said, caught off guard by the odd question. He thought quickly, "Most certain not. You have to earn this hat."

"How?!", America said the question out so quickly England was sure it had whiplash. It was a true effort on his part not to start laughing. America showed a keen interest in the strangest things, and while normally England would have just given the little one his hat, the older nation wanted to tease America.

"Well….this is a captain's hat. To be a captain, you have to have a ship and the last time I checked you don't lacked a vessel of your own.", England pulled himself up to his full height. He was still in his full regalia and knew he looked damn impressive.

"Yes I do.", America said after a moment of thought. England stared at him perplexed before mentally catching up to the child's line of thinking.

"A toy boat.", England chuckled, trying to keep the smile off of his face.

"It's still a boat.", America countered, crossing his little arms over his puffed out chest.

"Well to get this hat you are going to have to fight me for it.", England told him, expecting this to be the end of it.

"Ok. That's fair.", America chirped back. England gaped down his colony with a slack jaw, America grinning up at him.

"You cheeky little bugger.", England glared, "We are not fighting over a damn hat. You might get hurt."

"No. I won't.", America told him. England tapped his foot in open irritation, considering his next move. He could go through with this and teach America a valuable lesson about minding his elders. The question was though, could he really bring himself to harm the little one even if it was for his own good? The world wasn't exactly a nice place even in the most sentimental terms, something America seemed oblivious to. England mulled this over until a small hand patted his leg reassuredly.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you.", America told him, watching as England's shoulders sagged in disbelief.

"Oh that takes the biscuit. Get ready for your comeuppance, lad.", England snapped, moving forward now. He had centuries of experience, had fought in countless battles on land and on sea, and had led armies to victory. He would simply teach America a small lesson in overstepping his bounds and maybe tickle him to the point of weeing himself as a small revenge.

It was a brilliant plan that never saw fruition though, upon seeing America in deep concentration, a note worthy event in of itself. England could tell because America's face was all squinched and his little fists were balled up as well. The colony lifted one of his tiny feet to bring it down hard. To his mutual amazement and horror, England watched as the ground cracked up a bit, shaking the earth beneath his feet. He pitched forward, thrown completely off guard by the odd assault. America pressed his advantage to climb up England slender falling form quick at a squirrel until he was level with his keeper's stunned face.

*CRACK*

England saw stars as America connected their skulls together, dropping the older nation like a rock. England groaned as he eventually came to, to try and sit up only to feel a small foot on his back, another on his shoulder, and his head conspicuously bare of any decoration.

"And the hero has won.", America crowed, pointing toward the sky for some reason as he posed on top of England. The English nation propped himself up on his elbows, wearing a grin despite his loss as he looked over his shoulder. America was wearing England's hat though it was much too big for him and leaning worriedly off to one side.

"Oh so you think so…..", England laughed, turning over quickly so that America was unbalanced. He fell off to the side with a yelp of surprise only to start shrieking in laughter as England merciously tickled his sides. With a amused snort, England retrieved his hat to put over his face as he pillowed his head with crossed arms. America did his best to mimic the older nation, but staying still for long was never one of his skills. England turned his head in time to see a bright blue butterfly land on America's nose, the little nation going cross-eyed to study it. It flew away after a still moment, America taking off after it excitedly. England groaned as he made himself get up to follow his colony.

"What is it?", England asked. It had looked like just an ordinary butterfly to him. America seemed to be enamored with it though, following its every movement.

"I'm going to fly one day.", America announced confidently. England almost started to laugh at the out of the blue statement, only managing to stop himself as he realized the child was being dead serious.

"Rubbish. People have been trying to for centuries. It can't be done.", England told him, having witnessed some of those failed and mostly disastrous attempts personally. America seemed unfazed by his comment though. He was too busy thinking about the structure of a butterfly's wing and the lift needed to propel the insect forward in its flight. Unbeknownst to the young nation, the seeds of his dream rooted itself deeply into the fabric of his land to be discovered later. All he could feel from it was a strange warm glow that reminded him of stardust and whispered wishes made on trailing light.

"I'm going to fly.", America repeated, feeling deep down that he would. He did know how, he didn't know when, but he knew it was true.

"Take my advice and leave it to the birds, lad. They had a good thing going for them with wings and all.", England sighed when it become apparent to him that his colony was deeming to stay delusional, "Why would you ever want to anyway?" America came to full stop before him, abandoning his butterfly hunt to fix a too blue look upon his keeper.

"To fly to you."


End file.
